Don't you call her baby.
We're not talking lately.
Don't you call her what you used to call me...
A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them.
"Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of drea...
A/N: Thank you guys SOOOOO much for the outrageous amount of support I've gotten on this story... Practically 1K on two single chapters.... This is insane.. Thank you forever!
I wake up early... I do my early morning yoga on the balcony, and then feed my cat Bowie. I make myself a smoothie, and cook myself some breakfast, drinking it down, and afterwards getting in the shower, letting my hair dry naturally.
"Bowie.. Do you think I'm trying too hard?" I turn from the bed, my curls coming out as I show him my outfit. He rolls on his back, giving me a look, and I sigh. "You want the Bowie shirt? Huh? That's what I was thinking too.." I mumble, moving into my closet, grabbing my white shirt. I throw it on, and tuck it in my jeans. I walk back out.
"Bowie... You have to like this one, it's got you written all over it, no pun intended." I give a little wink, but he's lost all interest as he licks his paws, ignoring me completely. Great, now I'm boring to look at.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It's not that I want to look good necessarily, but I have a bit of that fear, that anxiety in me. He's Harry Styles.. If we're hanging out today going somewhere I don't know I could be seen with him by anyone... But also, he's a cool guy, one of the most known celebrities in the world.. I want to impress him, I don't want to look like some bum on the side of the road.
After some more debate I stick with my bell bottoms, and Bowie shirt, picking out my red converse to go with and my backpack per usual.This is fine. Causal, yet cute... He's a fashion icon, what if he comes out looking like a fucking model, and I come out looking like an idiot? But does he even care about that kind of stuff? Probably not..
My phone vibrates, and he's here, parked outside. My hands get sweaty, my mind running wild. Getting in a car is not that bad.. It's not that bad at all, you rode in a car last night, everything was fine then and it's going to be fine now. I trot down the stairs, and he's in a bigger car now, his sunglasses on his face, his windows rolled down. I give a soft wave as I walk to the car, climbing into the vehicle, completely pretending I'm not screaming on the inside.
"Cherry, how are you?" He asks, and I smile.
"M'alright... How are you?" I ask, setting my bag on the ground.
"I'm.. I'm doing alright.. Did you sleep alright? You got home so late, I didn't really think about how that would be for you... I'm used to the crazy sleep schedules and things." He tells me, slowly pulling out of the parking spot. I grip the seat closest to the door, keeping my eyes locked on the side mirror outside the car.
"I.. I slept great." I lie, knowing I tossed and turned, but I never really sleep well. Some nights are great, some nights are horrible... Some nights I just try to stay awake so I don't get the images of the car accident playing through my mind.
"You're lying.." He mumbles softly, and I look straight at him. He's not looking in my direction. His eyes are still on the road.
"What do you mean?" I ask, and his lips twitch up.
